Dead Man's Tunnel (12 page)

Once outside, Hook clicked off his flashlight. He paused at the trestle to listen. He'd learned as both a hobo and a yard dog that sounds and smells could save a man's life. He'd learned, as well, that both patience and attention were essential to the process.

Stars rode overhead, and the moon hung like a lantern above the canyon. He moved onto the trestle, his steps deliberate. Every few seconds, he paused to reestablish his equilibrium. When in the middle of the trestle, he stopped. The moonlight cast into the canyon, but the bottom lay in darkness.

For a moment, he thought he saw a flicker of light in the distance, but on a night such as this, the moonlight could reflect off a shard of broken glass, a beer bottle, a piece of tin. He knelt and waited, and when satisfied that all was clear, he made his way back to the guardhouse.

Finding the door unlocked, he panned the room with his light before entering. Corporal Thibodeaux's things were strewn about, and his bedding lay in disarray. The ashtray contained cigar butts, and an empty cola bottle lay on its side next to his bed.

Hook walked to the window and looked down at the tunnel. The moonlight reflected from the trestle rails. This would have been lonely duty for anyone but especially tough for young men in the prime of their lives.

He pulled the bedding off the corporal's bunk and covered the mattress with an army blanket he found folded in the closet. Lying down, he listened to the sounds of the night. He wondered why the lieutenant had called on such short notice. It would take a while for her to come all the way from Los Alamos. Perhaps Corporal Thibodeaux had been relieved of duty, or perhaps they had been alerted to something.

Weariness swept over him, and he slept a disturbed sleep. Sometime during the night, the moonlight cast through the window and awakened him. He turned on his side and watched the beam of light edge beneath Sergeant Erikson's bunk. Hook lifted onto an elbow. He could see a backpack that had been pushed far beneath the bunk. It must have been overlooked when the sergeant's things were packed.

He got up, found a broom, and dragged the backpack out. Dumping the contents onto the mattress, he sifted through the things: a pair of hiking boots, civilian jeans and shirt, a jacket, and a pair of leather gloves. Tucked into an envelope were ten one-hundred-dollar bills.

He lit a cigarette and sat on the edge of the bunk. Why would Sergeant Erikson have a backpack readied and cash money stowed away? Perhaps he'd had all the Johnson Canyon Tunnel he could take and had planned to go AWOL. But with the war nearly at an end? A few more months, and he would have mustered out anyway.

Unable to go back to sleep, Hook sat at the table and waited for the dawn.

*   *   *

The next morning he brewed a pot of coffee and ate from a box of crackers he found in the pantry. After that, he made another run through the tunnel and then worked his way down to the base of the trestle.

By the time he got back, the bridge and building crew had arrived and were busy attaching boilerplate onto the tunnel wall. Since foremen frowned on chitchat during working hours, Hook went on down the track where he came upon a survey crew hard at work.

He lit a cigarette and watched as the men set their flags. When someone tapped him on the shoulder, Hook's hand moved to his sidearm. He turned to see a man standing behind him with his hands on his waist. A shock of red hair sprang from beneath his hat, and his hands were the size of hams. Freckles covered his face and his arms and the tops of his hands. His belly rose up under his shirt, and he peered at Hook through thick glasses.

“Who are you?” he asked.

Hook moved his hand off his sidearm. “Hook Runyon, the railroad bull, and who are you?”

The man lifted his chin and studied Hook. “Rudy Edgeworth,” he said. “Value Survey Inc.”

“What's going on with the line?” Hook asked.

“Upgrade,” he said.

“Upgrade for what?”

“You'd need to check with the big boys for that.”

“The railroad's contracting the surveying, right?” Hook asked.

Edgeworth reached into his hip pocket and retrieved a package of chewing tobacco. With three fingers, he loaded his jaw.

“That's right,” he said.

“What they doing to the tunnel?” Hook asked.

“Taking out the timbers,” he said. “They catch fire from the smokestacks now and again. No one thought about that when they built her, I guess.”

“I guess not,” Hook said. “Your crew going to be working out here long?”

“All the way to Kingman,” he said.

“You boys didn't happen to see anything the day that guard died?”

Edgeworth pushed his glasses back up on his nose. “I've seen the hotshot that killed him,” he said. “He's a highballer and doesn't like stopping for no army grunts.”

Hook turned to leave and then paused. “Where's your home base?” he asked.

“Kansas City,” he said.

“You mind if I talk to your boys?”

“My crew answers to me, not the railroad.”

“You might be right about that, long as you aren't on railroad property. At the moment that isn't the case.”

Edgeworth spit between his legs. “They were with me the whole time. They didn't see nothing.”

“Thanks,” Hook said. “You be careful in these rocks. There's rattlesnakes the size of anacondas out here.”

*   *   *

Hook sat smoking on the porch of the guardhouse when a military staff car and jeep pulled in. Lieutenant Capron got out of the staff car and waited as two soldiers unloaded duffels from the backseat of the jeep. Hook watched them climb the steps.

The lieutenant leaned against the porch railing to catch her breath.

“This is Sergeant Folsom and Lance Corporal Severe,” she said. “They'll be taking over the guard duty here at the tunnel.”

Hook dipped his head. “Hope you boys brought plenty of reading material,” he said. “It's a tad quiet out here.”

“I thought you might show them the patrol area,” the lieutenant said. “They've been briefed on procedure.”

“I don't see why not,” he said.

“If you have time, I'd like to visit with you before you leave,” she said.

“Alright,” Hook said. “Come on, boys, I'll give you the tour.”

*   *   *

The lieutenant sat on the steps and waved them over upon their return.

“You men go on up to the guardhouse and get settled,” she said. “I'll be up shortly.”

After they'd gone, Hook said, “What's going on, Lieutenant?”

“I wanted to thank you for helping me out.”

“You're welcome,” he said.

Her eyes lit green in the sunlight. He'd underestimated her beauty. With looks like that, life couldn't be easy in the army.

“I take it Corporal Thibodeaux is gone?” he said.

“After I got back to the base, I called the guardhouse. I had this feeling. No answer, and I haven't been able to locate him anywhere. The tunnel couldn't be left unguarded, so I called you. I couldn't think of any other way.”

“Well, there's not much to worry about out here,” he said.

She leaned back against the step and locked her eyes on his.

“I wouldn't have bothered you about this, but the army has a thing about showing up for duty, even if it's standing guard over a water fountain. I'm afraid Corporal Thibodeaux is in serious trouble. I would have been, too, if I'd left this place unguarded.”

“By the way,” he said. “I think you should know that I found a backpack under Sergeant Erikson's bunk. It had a change of clothes and a thousand in cash in it. I left them on the table.”

“A thousand in cash? Is that so? I must have overlooked it.”

“Do you know of any reason why he'd have that much cash hidden away under his bunk?”

The lieutenant shrugged. “I don't know, emergencies maybe. I'll see that it's sent to his people.”

“It seems a large sum for an enlisted man.”

“Frugality is not unheard of in the army,” she said.

“No, I suppose not. So, I'll be on my way,” he said.

She slipped her purse off of her shoulder. “Have you talked to that girl yet?”

“Thibodeaux's girl? Not yet,” he said. “I've been guarding a tunnel.”

“I'd like to go along when you do.”

“I'd figured to check her out in the morning”

“Yes,” she said. “Tomorrow would be fine. I'll pick you up.”

Hook walked to the jeep and paused. “Did you have the prints checked on that flashlight?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Did you find any?”

“Yes,” she said. “Mine.”

Hook got into the jeep, and, just as he started up, Sheriff Mueller pulled in behind him. Hook shut off the engine and waited for him to come over.

“Hook,” he said.

“Sheriff. What's going on?”

“I can't talk long. Got a call on the way out. Some idiot turned a truckload of sheep over on the highway. You folks ain't seen that Corporal Thibodeaux, have you?”

“He's missing,” the lieutenant said. “We've been unable to locate him anywhere.”

“I figured as much. The banker in Ash Fork says a soldier showed up at the bank to cash a paycheck.”

“Lots of folks cash checks at banks, don't they, Sheriff?” Hook said.

“That they do,” he said, “but generally not the paycheck of a feller just run over by a train.”

 

15

T
HE LIEUTENANT PICKED
Hook up at the salvage-yard gate. He moved her briefcase and leather gloves over and slid in.

She leveled her gaze on him. “Where to?”

“Blue's Café,” he said. “It's on Main.”

She backed up and turned toward Ash Fork.

“Nice to have a reverse,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“Nice car,” he said. “I've been driving Scrap's jeep.”

*   *   *

The lieutenant turned into the parking space in front of Blue's and shut off the engine.

“Why here?” she asked.

“This is where Thibodeaux's girlfriend works. I'm hoping Blue will have some information.”

“Blue?”

“Her boss and owner of the café. I'll be right back,” he said.

“I'm going with you,” she said, opening the door.

Blue looked out of the service window. A grease-spattered apron hung about his neck. His eyes were black as night and closely set. He had a weak mustache that sprang out from under his nose.

“Linda Sue don't work here no more,” he said, pushing out a plate of ham and eggs.

“Do you know where she is?” Hook asked.

“I don't know,” he said.

Hitting the bell, he peeked out at the dining room. “She came in here with that army boy and told me she quit. Not so much as an hour's notice. These kids nowadays. And then I came up fifty dollars short in the till.”

“She had Corporal Thibodeaux with her?” Allison asked.

“Looked like he'd had a few, if you know what I mean. Why am I the only one left in the world who has to work for a living?”

“Did he say anything?” Hook asked.

“He just kept standing between the service window and the cash register so I couldn't see. Being a nice guy gets you nowhere, I can tell you.”

“You didn't report this to Sheriff Mueller?” Hook asked.

He scoffed. “I didn't want to get Linda Sue in trouble, you know. She's just a dumb kid. Anyway, I couldn't prove nothing. They stole cash, didn't they?”

“Thanks,” Hook said. “If we recover your money, we'll let you know.”

“Shoot that corporal, and the money is yours,” he said.

Once outside, Hook lit a cigarette and looked down the street.

“Now where?” the lieutenant asked.

“Linda Sue lives on five acres outside of town. Maybe they're there.”

*   *   *

The lieutenant pulled behind the shrubbery in the driveway and shut off the ignition. Several minutes passed. Finally, she said, “Well?”

“No signs of life,” he said. “They're either gone or in there hiding.”

“So what do we do?”

Opening the car door, he said, “We go find out.”

Hook circled around the house with Lieutenant Capron at his heels. At the back door, he stopped and listened.

“This is crazy,” she whispered. “There's no one home. Can we go now?”

“We can't be sure without looking,” he said.

“You can't go in there. It's against the law.”

He reached for his sidearm and clicked off the safety.

“I'm not one to break the law,” he said, turning the doorknob.

She rolled her eyes and followed him into the house. The air smelled stale, and the sink overflowed with dirty dishes. Hook checked each room before holstering his sidearm.

“Maybe they'll be back,” he said.

The lieutenant pursed her lips. “A waitress doesn't leave dirty dishes to come back to, and I can't find her makeup. I think they're on the run.”

“Yeah,” he said. “You might be right.”

“Could we get out of here now before we both wind up in jail?”

“Right,” he said

Back at the car, Hook rolled down the window and lit a cigarette.

“Blue thought the corporal may have had a buzz going. Let's check out the pool hall. Maybe someone there knows something.”

She looked over at him. “I haven't done much hanging out in pool halls.”

Hook said, “And you call yourself cultured?”

*   *   *

The pool hall smelled of tobacco and urine, and the sunlight, filtered through window grime, failed to penetrate the gloom. Cue sticks and racks lined the walls, and a jukebox sat silent in the corner. In the back, a man worked at the bar with a rag. Balls clacked from the back of the room, and men cursed.